Blue Eyed Devil
by readbycandlelight
Summary: The Lux Hotel chain is expanding to include a brand new luxury resort in New Orleans. In honor of this wonderful expansion, a New Orleans-style masked ball will be held at the grand opening...and Lisa Reisert is invited.
1. Chapter 1

**__****_Blue Eyed Devil_**

**By Kayla LaFleur**

**Summary: **The Lux Hotel chain is expanding to include a brand new luxury resort in New Orleans. In honor of this wonderful expansion, a New Orleans-style masked ball will be held at the grand opening. As a seasoned Acting Manager, Lisa Reisert is invited.

**Author's Note**: This is an excuse for me to put two of my favorite things together: Cillian Murphy and New Orlean's culture. Hehe. Hope you like!

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Red Eye. **No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**_Blue Eyed Devil_**

**By Kayla LaFleur**

**Part 1**

Lisa Reisert sat in her computer desk chair as she stared at the beautiful gown that lay fanned out on her bed. It was a stunning and delicate lilac affair made of intricate lace. The black, unmarked box that it had come in sat next to it. Earlier when she had carefully held it against her body, she noticed that when she slipped her hand inside the fabric that a gossamer glimpse of her skin tone had shone through. Delicate yet revealing.

It was perfect. Especially for the grand opening of the Lux New Orleans Hotel that she was going to be attending for her work. In grand New Orleans fashion, the new Lux hotel was going to be hosting a masked ball. As Acting Manager of the Lux Atlantic Hotel in Miami, Lisa was invited to make sure that everything ran smoothly.

Lisa had been putting off dress shopping until the very last few days before the event. Needless to say the procrastination had been gnawing at her. It wasn't like her at all to procrastinate...but for some reason she had been putting off buying a dress for this masked ball. Maybe because this event would be the first reason for her to get on a plane again ever since that ominous red-eye flight.

Okay... There was no 'maybe' about it. The residual memories of that red-eye flight were absolutely the reason why she had been putting off buying a dress for the New Orleans event.

But now, with the black box that had been mysteriously left at her doorstep, the worry and decision of choosing a dress were out of her hands. She had a dress; and she couldn't have chosen a better one herself.

And she was pretty sure she knew who her anonymous benefactor was.

A small smile came to her face as she thought of her boyfriend of six months, Paul Hernandez. It must have been him. He had said that due to work he wouldn't be able to make the trip with her to New Orleans, but that had obviously been a cover-up. Lisa was the kind of girl that had correctly guessed every Christmas present she'd ever gotten just by looking at the size and shape of them, much to her family's chagrin. And by the looks of the gorgeous lilac gown that lay on her bed now, she was willing to bet that Paul was going to 'surprise' her tomorrow at the airport with his own plane ticket to New Orleans.

In a moment of elation she reached for her cell phone that lay on her desk - but then she thought better of it. Let Paul think it was still a surprise, she thought. And besides, he was on duty tonight. He was a cop for the Miami Police Department. She had met him at her dad's house, after the chaos of the red-eye flight. He had been the one to take her statement. She had fallen for his kind brown eyes and the way he had cleaned and bandaged her cuts even though it wasn't part of his job description.

Lisa put her cell phone back down. She was sure she would be seeing Paul tomorrow at the airport. She stood and walked over to her bed and lightly fingered the dress. She was touched that Paul knew her dress size and had found something so uniquely suited to her. She put it on a hanger and left her closet ajar so she could look at it until she fell asleep. She'd pack it up first thing in the morning along with a pair of her silver, crystal-imbued heels that would go prefect with it.

* * *

Lisa took a cautionary step out of the taxi that had gotten her to the Miami Airport. The taxi driver, who seemed displeased with her slow pace, hurriedly popped the trunk of his vehicle and helped carry her luggage to the curb. Lisa murmured a shaky 'thanks' as the tires of the taxi screeched to life and took off without the taxi driver so much as saying a 'you're welcome.' With a deep, steadying breath, Lisa took the plunge and entered the airport.

A swell of panic instantly twisted her insides as she took in the sea of people making their way through the airport queues and terminals. She unerringly found herself searching for a face that had haunted her dreams for the past six months. Any time a pair of bright blue eyes and dark brown hair caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, she would jerk her gaze towards them. But it was never who she thought it was. No one had that added depth of icy cruelty that only he had possessed. Her heart rate slowed as she reminded herself that he was dead.

Without incident, she checked her luggage in at the check-in and took a seat at her terminal. Her flight to New Orleans would be departing in three hours. She was the only one there so far because of her OCD need to be at predetermined appointments extra early. She browsed through a magazine she had bought at a kiosk and took a phone call from her friend and co-worker, Cynthia. The bubbly Lux Atlantic Hotel receptionist-turned-manager told Lisa that she would be at the airport in fifteen minutes. Because of Cynthia's heroic display during the assassination attempt on the Keefe family's lives, she had been promoted to a manager position. She was invited by the Lux to go the the New Orleans ball as well.

Lisa got off the phone with a smile that melted into a happy grin when she found a tall, tanned man with black hair and kind brown eyes standing in front of her.

"Paul," she exclaimed in delight, standing up to embrace him. She had been right. Pretending to be surprised, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think I'd let you leave without saying 'goodbye,' now, did you?" he asked good-naturedly.

She pulled out of the embrace, confused. "You mean, you're not coming with me?"

His dark brows furrowed, and he seemed to search her eyes for the punchline to her joke. When he didn't find any, he answered slowly, "No...but you knew that. Remember when I told you I'd be working this weekend? I couldn't get the time off."

"Then how'd you get past the terminal desk without a ticket?" she asked, her confusion mounting.

"I'm a cop," he said with a laugh. "I know a buddy in security that let me in here so I could see my girlfriend off before her trip."

"Oh," she said, shaken up. She was never usually wrong about her hunches. "I just thought, because of the dress you'd gotten me, that you'd, you know, gotten the time off and were going to surprise me..."

His eyes darkened with confusion. "What dress?"

There was a beat of silence. Lisa felt a cold and icy panic bloom inside of her. "The dress," she said again. Maybe he was being coy. "You know, the beautiful ball gown that was left on my doorstep in a big, black box? ...Ring any bells?"

The confusion in his eyes deepened into alarm and a hint of jealousy. "I didn't buy you a dress, Lisa," he said in all seriousness. "What's going on? Is there something you want to tell me?"

Lisa didn't answer him. All of the sound around her had morphed into garbled, unrecognizable speech as her mind spiraled around the fact that Paul hadn't been the one to give her the dress. She wracked her brain for the answer, trying to figure out who else could have given her the exquisite dress. Could it have been her dad? No. He didn't even know what dress size she wore. Cynthia? No, again. Lisa personally knew Cynthia's finances - it was very doubtful that she could afford to gift a friend with a dress like the one in Lisa's luggage. Her mother? ...She knew Lisa's measurements, definitely knew about Lisa's upcoming trip to New Orleans, and was very likely to send Lisa nice things via mail. It was far-fetched, but it was the only solution she could come up with.

Well, the only _plausible _solution, she corrected herself.

_'He's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead,' _rang in her mind like a mantra.

"No, of course not," she said. "There's no one but you and you know that," she said softly. Her eyes were a bit reproachful. How could he even suggest such a thing? "It must have been my mother that bought me the dress."

Paul's eyes softened and he pulled her back into his embrace for a light kiss. "I'm sorry. I'll put my time in for vacation soon and we'll go somewhere tropical. I'll buy you a dozen beach dresses...and bikinis," he ended with an eyebrow wiggle.

Lisa laughed and rolled her eyes, not telling him that the thought of going somewhere tropical and full of bikinis bored her out of her mind. They lived in _Miami. _Bikinis and beaches were the norm here. Places where people actually wore clothes was more exotic to her. A strange sadness settled over her as her thoughts were pulled to the beautiful gown in her suitcase. Her romantic sensibilities had wanted so badly for it to be Paul that had given her the dress. There was something about it that spoke highly of the person that had bought it for her, like they knew the inner workings of her mind... Knew just how to strike the right chord to envelope her in feeling. She shook herself of the notion and reminded herself to call and thank her mother.

Soon Cynthia showed up, and Paul said his final goodbyes before leaving the terminal.

"Are you excited?" Cynthia asked enthusiastically. "I'm excited."

Lisa gave her The Look. "I'll be excited as soon as the flight is over."

* * *

The flight from Miami to New Orleans would only be 1 hour and 55 minutes long. Much shorter than her fateful red-eye flight...but none-the-less Lisa barely breathed during take-off and every minute after felt like it was going excruciatingly slowly.

She found herself unable to stop the assault of memories that pushed forth in her mind from her last flight. A handsome stranger. Cruel blue eyes. A taunting smile that promised death... She jumped when Cynthia tapped her on the shoulder when the flight attendant came around passing out snack bags of peanuts.

"No, thank you," she said to their concerned and questioning stares. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." She stood from her aisle seat and hurriedly walked to an unoccupied bathroom.

She splashed cold water on her face from the tiny sink and then stared in the mirror at her features. Her usually peach-hued skin was drained of color.

She'd been in a bathroom like this when she had been thrown around by Jackson Rippner. Flashes of a smeared message written in soap sprang to her mind.

Suddenly, her seat felt much more inviting than her current surroundings. She opened the bathroom door and made her way back to her aisle seat. A wave of unease surged through her as she caught a glimpse of Cynthia in their aisle several rows ahead of her. Lisa sped up her pace.

When she made her way to their row, it was as she suspected. Cynthia was fast asleep. But it didn't look natural. Only minutes before, Cynthia had been wide awake and chattering about all the things she wanted to do while they were in the Big Easy. And now she was unnaturally still with closed eyes. Thinking the worst, Lisa surged over to Cynthia and shook her awake.

"Oh," Cynthia said groggily. "Why'd you have to wake me up? I was having the most wonderful dream about a handsome stranger," she said dazedly. "What's that?" she asked in an unconnected train of thought.

Lisa looked down at her own seat, where Cynthia was pointing towards.

A black box, much smaller than the one she had found the day before but still quite obviously from the same person, lay on her seat.

Her mother couldn't have done that.

Lisa swallowed hard and picked up the small box with trembling hands before settling in her seat. She held it away from her as her sage green eyes frantically scanned the area...but nothing was amiss. No one was paying her any unusual amount of attention. She slowly lifted the lid of the box.

"It's beautiful!" Cynthia gasped.

Lisa gently lifted a silver mask out of black tissue paper. It was intricately woven into a breathtaking fleur de lis design that was studded with crystals. She had never seen anything like it.

"Look, there's more," Cynthia said, pointing to the black box again.

Lisa dazedly focused her attention back on the box. Silky white opera gloves, crystal bangles, and a silver ring set with a light purple stone met her gaze. The purple stone perfectly matched the lilac dress she had in her luggage...and the silver jewelry matched the shoes she had picked out to go with the ensemble. Someone was watching her every move.

"Someone's got a secret admirer," Cynthia said in delight, taking her turn to marvel at Lisa's presents.

"Cynthia," Lisa started, trying to quiet the young woman's chatter about how lucky she was. "Cynthia, stop. Someone on this plane is messing with me. Yesterday they left me a black box with a dress in it...and today there's a black box with a mask in it left at my plane seat when I leave to use the restroom? There's something very wrong with that. What happened before you passed out?"

Cynthia's smile dropped off her face, to be replaced with a stricken look. "Oh God. It's happening again, isn't it? I-I don't know. Okay, um, well you went to the bathroom...and then someone - a man, I think - walked up the aisle, but he stumbled right in front of me and I went to help him up...and, and... That's all I can remember," she said, deflated.

"He head-butted you," Lisa murmured, stunned.

Cynthia stared at Lisa with wide, imploring eyes. "He what?"

"Attention, passengers, the plane will be landing at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport in fifteen minutes. Please return to your seats as soon as possible and buckle up as we prepare for descent," a female attendant's voice sounded over the intercom.

"Can you remember what he looked like?" Lisa whispered in a rush as she scanned the passengers on the plane.

"No," Cynthia answered in anguish. "It happened so fast. I couldn't get a good look at him."

"Oh God," Lisa breathed out, letting her head drop back against her seat. "Please tell me this isn't happening."

"It isn't-" Cynthia started, but then lowered her voice to make sure no one else overheard her. "It isn't him, Lisa. He died. There was an obituary and everything."

"He isn't the only one that worked for that company," Lisa said. Her words were ominous. "I killed two of their employees. Maybe this is their way of telling me that they have a hit on me."

"By sending you pretty gifts?" Cynthia asked in confusion.

"No," Lisa said resolutely. "By fucking with my mind. Jackson Rippner acted like a decent man that was interested in me before he choked off my air supply."

The plane started its descent. Cynthia looked close to tears. Lisa waited, and waited, and waited some more - but nothing happened. The airline pilot announced their arrival in New Orleans and everyone started shuffling and getting their overhead baggage. Lisa mechanically did the same, but every step she took off of the plane had her feeling leery. The sound of her heart beat crashed in her ears. 'When is the other shoe going to drop?' she thought as Cynthia and she collected their suitcases from the airport conveyor-belt.

"Oh, look. The Lux's sent a Limo for us," Cynthia said, pointing towards a limo driver holding up a sign that said, "Milam," which was Cynthia's last name, and "Reisert."

They walked over to the driver. Lisa was a lot more cautious than Cynthia.

"Welcome to New Orleans, ladies," the driver said with a smile. "I'll be your driver to the brand new Lux New Orleans Resort."

"Can I see your Driver's Licence?" Lisa asked without preamble.

"_Lisa," _Cynthia whispered, sounding embarrassed.

"What? You can never be too cautious in this day and age," Lisa said with a forced smile as she checked his I.D. over. The photo of an older African American gentleman matched up with the driver that stood before her. She handed him his I.D. back. "Thanks."

The old driver chuckled a 'no problem' and went to load their luggage. The trip from the airport to the hotel was short but congested by the amount of tourists, streetcars, and horse-drawn carriages that shared the roadway. Cynthia 'ooohed' and 'aawed' at the majestic old architecture and lively music, but Lisa couldn't enjoy anything with the black boxes on her mind.

The brand new Lux New Orleans Hotel Resort was a towering edifice that captured the heart of New Orleans with it's Spanish and French influences. As their limo came to a stop at the front, even Lisa couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate it's beauty. The cream colored building's entrance way was lined with marble columns and old world style gas lamps, and, overhead, fleur de lis iron balconies dotted each suite.

They showed the passes they had been given by mail to the security at the entrance to the Hotel. A bellhop received them and ushered them to their rooms. They were given their own master suites. Lisa and Cynthia parted ways to check out their rooms. Lisa took in the massive sitting room decorated with lush carpeting and reproductions of fine French furniture. The door to her room was connected to this room. She opened it and was met with a enormous canopied bed and a breathtaking balcony view of the city. On the other side of the room stood a cream and gold vanity, which led to a walk-in closet on one side and a huge bathroom on the other. But Lisa hardly took anything in. She rolled her suitcase into the closet, picked up the itinerary the hotel had left her on the hotel pillow, and browsed it while she called her mom on her cell phone. It went straight to voicemail. Damn it.

"Hi, Mom, it's me, Lisa. Did you forget to charge your phone again? You're so bad at that... Anyway, I got these gifts. A ball gown and a mask. I was just wondering if they were from you. Give me a call back and let me know, 'k? Love you. Bye."

She did the same to her father. His phone went straight to voicemail too. "Does anybody charge their phone these days?" she asked in frustration.

Inside, she was panicking. She knew the gifts weren't from them. She was playing dumb as an excuse to call them and hear their voices. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

She contemplated the door of her suite. Leaving with her luggage was too obvious. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her pants, pulled her purse over her shoulder, and headed towards the door. There, nothing suspicious about that. She looked like she was going out to explore the area and site-see. Not go out and grab Cynthia, take a taxi to the nearest rental car place, and book it back to Miami like she really intended to do.

She turned the knob of the door until it clicked, swung the door open, and then shrieked as a darkly-clad figure blocked her way out.

"Hello, Leese."

Time seem suspended as she stared in horror at a man that should be dead. But it was him all right. He was as she remembered him. Tall and lean-bodied with the face of an angel and icy blue eyes that could freeze over Hell. She backed away in sheer terror. "No. This isn't happening. You're dead."

Jackson Rippner swung the door shut behind him. Lisa heard the solid click of the lock going back into place. "Turns out...I'm hard to kill. Though I commend you in your efforts for trying." Without warning he ran at her. Lisa screamed again and ran for the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. She popped the lock up and slid the door open about six inches before he got a hold of her.

In a last ditch effort she slammed it the rest of the way open and screamed, "HEL-"

He shoved his palm over her mouth and twisted her around to face him so that her back was braced against the balcony. Several people below them in the busy tourist area looked up to see what the noise was. Seeing this, Jackson replaced his palm with his mouth and pulled her leg up around his waist so that she semi-straddled him. She couldn't stop him. His grip was like an iron-vise. The crowd below them erupted into catcalls and hoots of encouragement. Jackson's hand had been over her nose as well as her mouth so when he let go she had opened her mouth to drag in a breath - only to be received with his lips and tongue forcefully making their way in. She tried to scream, but he thrust his tongue deeper. Hot-cold chills pebbled her skin as the man that had tried to kill her kissed her in front of dozens of people - and none were the wiser about his cruel intent. He led her back inside, never letting up on his hold until the sliding glass door was fully closed. As soon as the noise barrier was intact again, he shoved her onto the bed and closed the blinds.

She gasped for breath, backing as far away as possible from him at the same time.

"Now," Jackson said conversationally, "Where were we?" He looked her up and down. His blue eyes glittered with sinister heat. "Oh yes." He straddled her on the bed and slammed her arms back down to lay flat against the mattress when she attempted to pull herself up. "We were talking about your ill-fated attempt to kill me." He pushed himself fully against her, so that his mouth was at her ear. "Take it from a professional - always fire a kill shot in the head. Just in case."

Lisa trembled against him, but her eyes were hot with anger. "Silly me - I'll remember to do that next time."

Jackson chuckled darkly. It was a hot tickle against the shell of her ear. "Silly you... There won't be a next time." He pressed his pelvis into hers. Her eyes widened at the hot stiffness pressing against her.

"K-kill me," she stuttered out. "Just kill me."

"Oh, believe me, while I laid in recovery from when you _stabbed and shot _me - you cannot even imagine all of the creative ways I killed you in my mind. That was month one on bed rest. But after that, as I gained strength through physical therapy...I gained clarity," he said conversationally, still hot and rasping his confession in her ear. "I realized _killing _you wasn't the best way to get revenge. No," he said, shaking his head sardonically to make his point. "You see, I'm going to make you feel what I've felt for the past six months, Lisa Reisert, because to know you...is to know what true agony is," he said with heavy, haunted eyes.

She saw the moment his eyes blazed a trail down to her plump, swollen mouth. Saw his eyes darken and his head dip down... She turned her head to the side. He chuckled lowly, righted her jaw into position, and stole the kiss from her anyway. He tasted like sin and darkness.

As quickly as it happened, he released her. She made a show of wiping her mouth off. He gave her an indulgent grin. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Leese. Speaking of..." He plucked her itinerary off the floor where it must have landed during their scuffle. He scanned it and whistled. "You have a busy few days ahead of you. Time for bed. So why don't you run along and go tell Cynthia you're done for the night. I'll turn down the bed."

She didn't move. She loathed the idea of taking orders from _him_. "What makes you think I won't just leave?"

His blue eyes pierced her to the soul. "Because I know you value your parents lives too much to do something so stupid."

They stared each other down. She was the one to finally crack. She rose from the bed and went to bid Cynthia goodnight.

"That's a good girl," she heard him chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **_I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and favorited this fic. Wow! I didn't expect such a wonderful enthusiasm and response! It was such a pleasant surprise to find out that the Red Eye fandom has a pretty strong following. Yay! You guys are awesome. I wanted to let you all know that I read and treasure each and every review I get, I just don't always have the time to respond to them all, so I'm going to be dedicating the chapters to those who review to show my appreciation._

**Part II is dedicated to _bexr91, KnoKnayme, _**_**EmpireX, Jesscah, Mariabonita, Kohana Moon, **__**SweetEmotion91, **__**IseeButterfly, chussiee93, **__**Suzy, and trudes193!**_

_**I hope you guys enjoy your gift ;)**_

* * *

**Blue Eyed Devil**

**By Kayla LaFleur**

**Part II**

Convincing Cynthia that she was fatigued with jet-lag and needed to go to bed early was only all too easy.

Lisa wished it hadn't been. She clicked the door shut to Cynthia's suite and then haltingly walked back to the door of her own suite. She squeezed her eyes shut and just stood there, hovering. She didn't dare to go back in yet. Maybe if she just stood here with her eyes closed a little while longer and willed it so this would all have been just a bad dream. She would wake up back in her apartment in Miami where there was no beautiful ball gown lying on her bed, and icy blue eyes would be nothing but a haunted memory.

She opened her eyes. A lovely, but impersonal, hotel door met her gaze. She shuddered out a breath and tried to bite back the rising hysteria creeping into her. She wanted to get away from this frightening reality...but her parents lives depended on her.

She opened the door.

_He _was there. Elegantly lounging in a chair at the formal dining table. An icy dread dropped into her belly. She knew that, though he looked like he was in a calm repose, he was a lethal murderer that could strike her down at any moment. She hoped she didn't look as scared as she really was. She could feel the tension in the air as she shuffled into the room and slowly made a chore of closing and locking the door. In a calculated attempt at making it easier for her to escape later, she only half-turned it to lock and then back to unlock.

When she turned, his intense blue eyes languidly trailed across her figure. He finally settled at her eyes. She stood still, petrified at the thought of what could be going through his mind.

His full lips slowly spread into a smirk, as if he could sense the turmoil in her. "That's fine. Leave it unlocked. But make no mistake, you won't be going anywhere tonight."

The small triumph in her died out... He knew. 'Of course he knows,' she thought bitterly, as she met his avid stare. 'Those eyes of his don't miss anything.'

He stood from his seat and made his way over to her. She didn't dare move, could hardly even breathe. He stopped in front of her and took her hands in his. Her petite, pale hands were engulfed into his much larger, masculine hands. She trembled at the false sense of intimacy as he led her into the bedroom like a lover.

Her favorite set of pajamas were laid out on the bed. An over-sized baby blue button-down shirt with matching shorts. There was nothing overtly sexy about them, except for maybe the short length of the shorts. For the most part they could be described as cute and comfortable. But Lisa had never been so uncomfortable seeing her familiar belongings. It meant that Jackson was privy to her nighttime habits.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Shhhh," he said as he stood very close behind her. "You already know why," he whispered in her ear as he pressed his hands into the cloth at her sides.

His words and touch sent an electric shock through her. A deep revolt was raging inside of her. She wished she was anywhere but in her own skin at this very moment. "Does getting revenge really mean this much to you?" she asked, her heart racing as she thought back to her confession to him, about being raped in broad day light by a man with a knife. Was Jackson really going to make her suffer that fate again? Was he that black-hearted?

"Yes," he said, turning her around to face him. A hot, traitorous tear spilled from her eye in spite of herself. Broken. Angry. He gently thumbed away the tear. "Getting revenge means _everything _to me."

"You're a monster," she bit out, right before she flinched away when he loomed more closely towards her. He stood very close to her, his light eyes burning into her. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the agonizing moment when he would inflict her body with pain and assault.

But the moment never came. She opened her eyes, and he was holding her pajamas out in front of her. He impatiently motioned for her to take them from him. She stared at the proffered garments in confusion, not comprehending what he meant by this. "Take them," he ordered. "Put them on and get in bed."

Was this some part of his sick game? Her mind flashed to the beautiful gown in her suitcase, and the mask in the black box... They had all been from him. His little 'surprises' for her. Of course he was capable of sick things. She held the pajamas weakly against her body, unable to move, unwilling to go beyond this moment.

Jackson stepped back and turned his back towards her. "Look - I'm even giving you privacy. Just put the damn pajamas on. I know you won't be comfortable sleeping in those slacks."

She stared in amazement at his back. 'Won't be comfortable sleeping in those slacks?' ...As if he _cared? _But she wasn't entirely willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just a moment ago she had been afraid to death that he was going to lay his hands on her. She was confused as hell, but she was going to put on the pajamas. She slipped into them as quickly as possible and then stood there awkwardly. Her eyes shifted from the turned-down bed to Jackson's back. She knew he had told her to get in once she had the pajamas on, but she wasn't _that _compliant.

"Are you decent?" he asked as he turned back around, not waiting for an answer. "Good," he said, his eyes raking over her. "Time for sleep, Leese."

The words fell from his lips so effortlessly...so _casually_. It sounded natural, like the words were meant to come from him. Lisa recoiled at the bizarre thought, and huddled into the plush bed. She slipped as close to the edge as she possibly could, turning her back towards him. If she couldn't see him, he wasn't there... If only.

There was a rustle of clothing and soon after Lisa felt the bed dip under his weight. The pit of her stomach plummeted as he settled his form behind her. She could feel the palpable heat of his bare torso pressed up against her back, but thankfully his lower half was clad in pajama pants. His arm slid around her waist like an anchor. Any hope of escaping without him knowing was officially squashed.

"Good night," he whispered near her ear as he flicked off the light on the nightstand next to him. They were plunged into darkness. After a few moments, Lisa dragged in a shuddered breath. She was so tense that she had forgotten to breathe. "Ssshhhh," he repeated in a relaxed, sleepy voice. He sounded like he was halfway to dream land.

Lisa was, however, wide awake and totally disturbed by the turn of events. She was cuddled with her would-be killer. She was in her most comfortable pajamas and he was in his own pajamas and was holding her close... It was all so..._domestic. _It clashed horribly with the haunted memories she had of him. She lay there tensely for hours, her mind going over every angle of what was happening. If there was one thing Lisa hated the most, it was the unknown. Lisa excelled at predicting what was going to happen next in a good book or could predict how customers were going to react to a new hotel policy, but _this _- Lisa had no clue.

So she lay there, in a sort of mental torture, as he dosed on. His breath fanned softly against her neck, sending chills through her nerve-endings. Several times she thought of removing his hand and escaping, but the thought of her parents always made her back down from the idea. Their lives depended on her. It was their images that burned behind her eyelids as she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Lisa woke up in bed alone. She snapped up into a sitting position, blinking away the drowsiness from her eyes as she searched the room. For a moment, she was lulled into the thought that maybe Jackson Rippner had been a nightmare - but then she saw the figure on the balcony.

It was him. He was seated at the little round table on the balcony meant for outside dining. He looked freshly showered and was dressed in very nice business-casual clothing. He browsed the local newspaper while he leisurely drank a cup of coffee. Not for the first time, Lisa was struck by the surreal domesticity of his actions. To any outside observer, it would look as if she and Jackson were a couple enjoying a business-with-pleasure trip to New Orleans. It was all so...dream-like. Unreal. She had the urge to slap herself to wake up from this bizarre-o world.

It was then that he noticed her presence on the other side of the open balcony door. He set down his newspaper and grinned at her, motioning for her to come join him. "Oh, good, you're awake. Just in time for breakfast."

She stood where she was, staring at him as if he had grown another head.

The friendly expression on his face fell away, to be replaced with a hard-edged seriousness. "Lisa, come sit and eat breakfast with me. Your parents' lives depend on it."

A deadly chill ran through her. This was the Jackson she knew and loathed. She stiffly walked over and sat down across from him. He smiled again, pleased with her cooperation, and opened a box of delightful looking puffed pastries drizzled heavily with powdered sugar. "I went down and got us some local eats. These beignets are supposed to be the best in the world."

They certainly _looked _like they'd be the best in the world. Her mouth started watering at the sight of them, but she was very hesitant to eat anything that Jackson presented to her. What if they were poisoned? "Thanks," she said hesitantly, while eyeing them wistfully. "But those aren't on my diet."

Jackson plucked one out of the box for himself. His eyes never left hers as he bit into the hot dough and made a pleasured noise... Lisa felt her cheeks heating up. Everything about him made her extremely uncomfortable and unnerved. Especially when his eyes told a different story...like he would rather be eating something else. _Her. _She looked away; tried to take in the beautiful morning scenery - but he pulled his chair up next to her and placed the beignet at her lips.

"You know you want it, Leese," he said in a low, sultry voice. "It's healthy to indulge every once in a while...and you look like you can use a little indulgence. You've gotten a little too skinny."

That last sentence broke her resolve. She glared at him in defiance and took a huge bite. She figured he had taken a bite first so it couldn't be poisoned.

It really was pure bliss. After that first bite, she wasn't stopping. She finished the first one. Jackson put another on the plate in front of her and took another for himself.

"I told you they were good," he said smugly as he studied her. She didn't answer him. She didn't want to stroke the mad man's ego. She just kept eating, this time at a slower pace. She was almost done with the second one when she had to stop because she wasn't used to eating such rich things.

"So, Leese," Jackson started conversationally, once they were both done eating. "How've you been?"

"Oh, am I supposed to play along as if you don't already know?" she asked bitingly.

A devilish smirk spread onto his features. "Still as spirited as ever, I see. However, I do see your point. I know how you're doing... I know everything about you. That still doesn't mean I don't enjoy to hear your opinion of things. So how do you like the dress I sent you?"

Lisa was at a loss for what to say. What was she suppose to do? Admit that when she first saw it she thought it the most beautiful garment she had ever laid eyes on? Yeah, right. "Oh, that thing? Hideous. I have half the mind to burn it."

Jackson's smirk never slipped. "Is that why, when you first got it, you stayed up half the night gazing at it all dreamily?"

It was her turn to give him a death glare. "That's because I thought it was from my boyfriend."

A dark glint entered Jackson's eyes. He was none-too-happy with her response. "Your _precious _boyfriend, huh?" He spit out the words as if he were disgusted. "The oh-so-wonderful Paul Hernandez. Isn't he just..." He paused for a moment, as if he was looking for the right words. "_Too good to be true_? The golden boy, there to rescue you at the most opportune moment, when you were at your weakest and most vulnerable?"

Lisa was shaking. She knew Jackson knew everything, but to hear her boyfriend's name come from his lips chilled her to the bone. "You're crazy," she said, standing up and backing away. "Leave him out of this!"

Jackson advanced on her. "Tell me, Lisa, after the red eye flight - how long did it take him to get you into bed?"

She broke into a run. Like the day before, he overtook her and tackled her onto the bed. "Get off of me!" she screamed.

"A month? A week? A _day?_" he rasped against her neck as he pressed her firmly down. "Did you blush? Did you moan? Did you _beg for more_?" At his last words, he rolled his hips in between her legs, letting out a gasp as if the action brought him pained bliss. More darkly, he asked, "Did you think of me when he touched you?"

Lisa tried to bite him, scratch him, kick at him - but he held her down. Soon their breaths were becoming more labored and all her fighting ended up doing was rubbing them together more intimately. It came to a point that even she couldn't deny the heat building in between her legs. Finally, she was able to free one of her trapped hands and slap him hard across the face.

He laughed. "Why so bothered, Lisa? Did I hit a nerve?" He accentuated this question with another roll of his hips. This time it was rhythmic.

She stifled a gasp. Her eyes were wide, darkened, and overwhelmed with feeling. "Get off of me," she moaned softly. She weakly pushed against his chest.

He brushed her hand away and pulled her pajama top apart. The buttons scattered as her chest was bared. "God, I want you, Leese," he moaned. He lent down and enveloped her nipple into his mouth.

Everything in her told her to push him away. She didn't understand why instead she arched her back, giving him more access. She was in a haze of pleasure, anger, and confusion. When had they stopped fighting? When had it turned into something else? Her thoughts drifted away when he switched to her other breast.

Soon, the tension inside of her was growing unbearable. In the heat of the moment, she moaned, "Jackson."

She had no idea what that did to him. His hips intensified the pace of his thrusts and he growled out, "Yesssss," as he tangled his hands in her brunette hair and brought his mouth towards her own. He stared at her for a heated moment, as if to leave no doubt about who it was she was touching. Her eyes fell to his plush lips. She was gone. Long gone in this lust. He kissed her with a moan. This was the first time she kissed him back. The burning need deep inside of her grew more and more, until she was clawing at him under his clothes. It satisfied her longing and hatred to hear him hiss and pull her pajama bottoms and panties off all at once.

In an act of defiance she rolled out from underneath him and straddled him. For a brief moment, he looked like he didn't know if he should kiss her or kill her, but his expression melted into agonized bliss as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and squeezed him through his boxer briefs. "Fuck," he moaned, falling languidly into the pillows. She pulled the waistband down, freeing his hot and needy length. She scooted her hips up, aligning him with her femininity. "Yesss, Leese, ride me," he hissed out, staring at her poised above him. The blue of his irises were almost consumed by black.

She pressed the tip of him against her...just as there was a knock on the door.

"Lisa?" Cynthia's voice called out through the doorway of the formal entrance of the suite. "Are you up? We've got to be at our meeting pretty soon."

Her friends voice was like a cold bucket of sanity to Lisa's senses. Oh God. What was she doing? She jumped off the bed and ran for the bathroom door. Jackson followed her.

The front door of the suite was unlocked. Cynthia let herself in. "Lisa? Helloo-ooo?"

Lisa took in an unsteady breath, trying to ignore the presence behind her. Through the bathroom door, she said, "I'll be out soon. Just got a late start. I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll meet you down in the lobby."

"Ok," her friend called out brightly. "Oooh, did you have beignets sent up to your room?"

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god. "_Um, yeah," Lisa said. She was totally freaking out. "Help yourself."

"Thanks! See ya down in the lobby!"

Lisa listened as Cynthia's footsteps faded. When the front door to the suite closed, Lisa slowly turned around.

Jackson was casually leaned up against the bathroom counter. His jacket and dress shirt had gone missing and his undone slacks were slung low on his hips. His hot and ready erection bobbed insistently upwards toward his stomach.

"Now where were we?" he asked in a low, heated voice.

* * *

**_To be Continued..._**

**Author's note: **Beignets, anyone? *snort* *giggle* *dies*


End file.
